


Moonlight

by StarrySkied_Hunter



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Ill write this content my damn self, Its a poly you cant stop me, M/M, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, here dbh discord take my fanfiction, im doing my best here, naaahhdh, weeee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 17:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15148106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarrySkied_Hunter/pseuds/StarrySkied_Hunter
Summary: Markus wakes up from a nightmare, but fortunately his boyfriends are there to soothe him





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on my phone and i regret everything

Markus gasped sharply, eyes flying open and the raspy _“Si-”_ hissing out before he could stop it.

The moonlight stabbed his eyes as he regained his senses. In a strange way he was thankful for the blindness it granted, the momentary pain brought him back to reality.

He was in bed, safe, not on a snowy street with the grenade still ringing in his ears, the invasive cold creeping in between the cracks in his damaged body. He could still almost taste the freezing Thirium on his lips, sense it in his nose, hear the screaming of his people as the humans threw weapons of war. He could still feel the fear and terror as the adrenaline faded away, the breathless, spinning sensation of being utterly, entirely helpless.

But he was in bed, with the sheets and warm blankets over top, comfortably sandwiched between Connor and Simon, both of which were still sleeping soundly. No anger, no war, no screams. None of that had happened for a long time.

 

A check of his internal clock read 3:17 am. He sighed silently and ran a hand down his face. There were nights like these where Markus couldn't keep the monsters at bay. Nights where they would dive into his mind's eye and rip apart his dreams, shredding them to silky, stardust-coated fragments of what once was, and Markus would jolt awake with a name on his shaking, dry lips, a tremor in his body, and quiet error messages stating that his regulator pump was going too fast, or that his respiratory cycle system was going to overheat.

 

That was a little comforting he supposed -- he never had the mind palace and the errors in his dreams -- but it didn't prevent the nightmares, those human things. Of all the monsters the concept of humanity had granted his people, nightmares were among the worst. The shadows of your fears and your past intermixing and assaulting your sleeping mind. He wondered if that was PTSD, something he'd known the definition and symptoms for, but, as with many things, had never properly experienced. It never let him sleep well, and he was sure his boyfriends had noticed.

 

Speaking of, he felt Connor shift behind him, the arms around his waist tightening as he readjusted. Markus shut his eyes and felt the flutter of Connor's eyelashes on his spine, the soft, feathery kiss against skin warmed from fear. He felt the pause, the lashes open, the knitted brow of one partner just close enough to sense.

 

“Markus?” Came the voice, soft and low, even now it could startle him how gentle Connor could be. Jericho had known him for so long as the Deviant Hunter, their own turned against them by Cyberlife in an accursed, efficient machine of war, all sharpness, absolutes, the black and white of a chessboard. But here, in this darkened room, Connor was a soothing, misty grey, softer than a breath of wind, as warm as a fire, and equally comforting in both regards. He wondered if the Markus who had just clawed his way free of the Junkyard would ever have anticipated this pathway. The pathway of loving who had been meant to be his greatest enemy, in tandem with one of his most trusted allies.

The hands squeezed Markus’s waist again, concerned. “Are you alright?”

 

“... I'm fine. Bad dream.” He responded softly, guiding one of Connor's hands to his chest and resting his own hand over it, linking their fingers. “It woke me up.”

 

“Mm.” Connor hummed the acknowledgement, nuzzling Markus’s shoulder gently.

Simon stirred when Markus shifted back a little into Connor, and his heart melted at the sight. Simon looked so vulnerably sleepy, blue eyes fluttering open to blink at the other two. Immediately a frown crossed that gorgeous face and Simon rested a hand over the two entwined on Markus’s chest.

 

“Nightmare.” Markus explained before Simon asked the question forming on his face. That earned a thoughtful nod and a shift closer. Simon tucked his face into Markus’s neck, and Connor ran kisses over his shoulders and spine. He relaxed beneath their attention, eyes shut, letting the gentle touches and sensations of his lovers strip away the imposing ghost of his evil dreams.

 

“What would I do without you two?” He mumbled appreciatively, his free hand looped around Simon and carding through his hair. Simon smiled against the skin of his neck. “Brood alone more often, I'd think.”

 

Connor snickered between kisses and Markus snorted, brushing a kiss over Simon's head. “Probably dead as well.”

 

A protesting whine from both partners caused him to laugh and Connor gently swatted his side. “You'd have North and Josh.”

 

“True, true, if one hadn't ripped the other apart beforehand.”

 

“Honestly, you're right...” Simon mused quietly, exhaling. They fell into a soothed silence for a moment, just enjoying each other. Markus could tell their hands apart, felt warmth bloom inside him when he felt Simon and Connor's fingers wound as tightly as either were wound with him. It had taken a while to create the trust needed for this kind of love, but the soft look Simon gave just over Markus’s shoulder was enough to confirm that their relationship was as stable as ever. The upturn of Connor's lips against Markus’s neck added to the sentiment.

 

“Are you feeling better?” Simon asked Markus gently, those gorgeous blue eyes refocusing and pulling Markus out of his thoughts.

 

“A little.” He admitted, thumbing Simon's cheek.

 

“What was the dream about?” Connor inquired softly, squeezing the hands he held. It was soothing in a way, how much Connor conveyed with simple movements, simple words. Deviancy suited him. Markus can see Connor's face in his mind's eye, the soft brown eyes, hooded with sleep but concerned all the same, the pillow-tousled, free brown hair, ignorant of its typical daytime style, and the gentle, tiny frown with the yellow LED spinning on processing mode. Connor cared just as much as anyone in this trio. Markus felt his heart flutter only a little with both pairs of eyes on him.

 

“Revolution memories.” He murmured as explanation, and felt both of them sag. “The bombs and the FBI.”

 

Simon squeezed their entwined hands and Markus felt himself shiver as the three banished skin, metal touching metal, plastic on plastic, white and ethereal in the light of the moon. They've shared these memories a hundred times, but to have them now is still something sweet. Something comforting, like a promise.

 

Markus felt Connor's brow furrow against his neck as they silently traveled his memories of the Tower, the elevator, the fake Connor, the first time he'd ever properly felt fear, the elation of Hank's trust, the Awakening. Then Markus and Simon’s at the barricade, in Jericho, the Cyberlife facilities, their old or missing lives. It's a dance they've done a hundred times, but it is no less soothing to follow the steps hand in hand.

 

Their hands remained free against his chest, and Markus relaxed fully, drawing Simon close while shifting back into Connor. “Better."

 

“Sleep?” murmured Simon, followed by a soft kiss.

 

“Sleep.” Markus agreed.

 

Between two heats, with warm hands over his heart and breath against his neck, the thrum of life beneath his touch, Markus found it easy to fall back into the abyss. After all, if there was any danger, Connor and Simon would always pull him out, and he'd do the same. No nightmares needed to be suffered alone.


End file.
